Amy Seiffert

“…..and your ears will hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it” when you 

turn to the right or 

when you turn to the left….” Isaiah 30:19-21

Early Day 23.

After we left the NICU last night to go home, Robby had a great night. He did not have one 

episode and the 

nurse said he did excellent. He did well all day today. If he does well tonight the doctors want 

to get him home 

so “he can thrive even more” as he grows. 

So, he could come home tomorrow.

But what do you do? Can’t put my hope in something that is constantly changing, that’s for 

sure. But I do want 

to practice being thankful in the midst of it all.

I am thankful that Robby does not have any long term sickness. He will not go home on 

medicine, on a monitor, 

on anything. He is simply premature and he will learn to do this…and has already taken great 

strides this week. 

That is so wonderful.

I am thankful for this sweet little scene today: Rob and I were eating dinner on the cozy 

hospital lawn today (it 

really is cozy) and a woman and her little son walked by us singing in one of those low, sweet 

southern gospel 

voices that could melt a heart of stone: “I’m trading my sorrows….I’m trading my pain….I’m 

laying it down for 

the joy of the Lord…..”

We wept and were thankful for the reminder. I may chalk it up to one of those could-it-

really-have-been-an-

angel-oh-well-it-was-cool-either-way moments.

I am thankful that I feel validated by airing my thoughts to others who will pray for us and 

walk with us. That’s 

you. Thanks for reading what has become my journal.

Won’t it be great to get an email that says: “Robby is home!”  It will be great. You can pray 

that it is this 

weekend.

But, hey…18 days until his due date…..

Amy

“My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.” -Psalm 62:1-2

Day 18 in the NICU today. 

This morning I realized that I cannot find any rest in what the nurse says to me when I call each morning. Her news seems to be said with little compassion and pure forthrightness: “He had another Brady episode, a Desat during feeding and he choked. But he’s fine.”

He choked, but he’s fine?

That sentence does not sit well with me and no new mom wants to hear that. How is choking “fine”?  So I hang up the phone, get ready to drive up to the NICU and spend the day in there with him, watching him sleep in between feeds, and I have to really order my mind well. I have to sit and count all the beautiful things about my son:
-He busted his birth weight yesterday: now 5 lbs. 12.5 ounces. Weight gain like this is excellent.

-He is a breastfeeding champion and has zero problems with this type of feeding.

-He is starting to have awake times with us: He spent about an hour awake yesterday looking at me and looking around the sterile, windowless environment -  seemingly impressed. I started to tell him about things like trees and beaches and beauty that blows the NICU away. Not like he can really see much now.

-The ONLY thing holding him back is bottle-feeding. He is such “an aggressive sucker” that he gulps the very fast-moving bottle and the milk builds up and he forgets to breath and spits it all up. This is an extreme comfort. He does all of life well otherwise

.-He has all ten fingers and all ten toes and the most perfect little face. His nose is simply edible. He’s my little sac of sugar. My turkey wrap. 

-I have been able to rest (mostly full nights sleep) and heal well because he is in the NICU and I cannot stay with him. Really hard for my soul but helpful to my body. 

We know that the bottom line reality is that he will be out someday. They initially told us to expect to have him in there until his due date (July 4), but then most nurses on the side said: “Oh, he’ll be out WAY before that…he’s strong and healthy and improving well.”  

I suppose if we have to wait 42 days until he comes home, then we just do. Some parents have been visiting their children for over 3 months now. The NICU is a pretty emotionally charged place and I sometimes feel like I walk right through thick waves of sadness, despair, hope, love from other families who are trying to create their living room in there, too…..it’s overwhelming.
One of my prayers for today is that the doctor will want to send him home because this only happens when he bottle feeds. The nurses mentioned that they will emphasize this to our doctor since he will be breastfeeding. And the nurses say babies just thrive when they get home. Thanks for praying for him.
22 days until his due date……
Amy

It’s been one year since Robby came 6 weeks early and had to be in the NICU for 23 days. To honor and reflect upon that time, I started sifting through my “journal entries” from that time that became therapeutic emails. So here’s to all you who have had children for a few days, weeks and months in the NICU. I especially dedicate this to my Aunt Carrie. We seemed to experience quite the same path, including the milk production of a larger grass eating animal those first few months. 

Ahhhh….the NICU. There are several ways (depending on the moment)

that I (Amy) like to describe the NICU:

A bad carnival for helpless children with silly little lights, sounds and bells. 

A parenting fishbowl. 

A well-staffed, brilliant place where children who would otherwise not survive are miraculously able to make it. 

The Seiffert living room for the past 2 weeks and maybe 2 more to go. 

Note: When I say “living room” think sad, suffocating screens they put up for me to nurse in a “better, private” environment, 19 other helpless, sweet-faced babies crying as the nurses do their vitals, various flourescent lights (just like my own home…oh, wait…..), other weeping moms trying to cope….you know, that super home-y feel you have going on right now in your living room.

I waffle between loving the NICU and the excellent nurses to wanting to unhook my little turkey and stick him in my purse and just get outta dodge….like some kind of frantic, foaming lunatic.

I am sure my hormones are helping here.

Sandy asked me where God was in it all of it for me. I am ravenously hungry for the Psalms. I skipped church the other morning and Pastor King David shepherded me well. I feel like small, poignant phrases run through my head from the Psalms like: Preserve me, O God….the helpless find comfort in Him…recount the mighty deeds the Lord has done….

Reminders that God is in control, is bigger than the NICU and knew all of this was coming.

All to say…Robby is doing well. He is super sweet and adorable and “fiesty and strong…with a good set of lungs” as the nurses say. He is strong and doing better each day. The doctor says he just needs more time to learn one last thing that Sandy mentioned: the suck, swallow, breathe part of life related to eating that 34-weekers have a hard time with. So, it could be 2 days or 2 weeks. Please pray for the shorter.

We would like to be home. Like a “normal” family. I would like to stop getting taxied up to the NICU, to stop eating 60 cent mashed potatoes in the cafeteria (which are not bad, really) and to be free. On another note, my parents have rocked. They have fed us every night, done our laundry, run errands, taken me to the hospital so I can nurse him…it’s pretty incredible being just 5 miles from the hospital from here.

I will be trying to answer my phone more…and I really appreciate the “amy, i love you, don’t call me back, really.” messages. Those are great and even more motivating to call back, actually.

Thank you for all the cards, gifts, visits, plant watering, house cleaning, messages, facebooks and emails. I feel overwhelmed with your love.

I cannot wait for you to all meet him and hold him…after you wash your hands….visitors are welcome….call first….

much love and affection,

amy

Sounds like a band. Or a children’s book. Or both. 

He started with a 101 temp on Tuesday and woke up Wednesday with some tiny little pinkish bumps.  After his morning nap on Wednesday it all went downhill. Or uphill – the bumps ramped up. It seemed like every minute there were more bumps and they were getting bigger and redder. The color of strawberries. Pretty scary.

I ended up running into the doctor’s office asking them to either see him now or I was running down the hall to the ER. They took one look and they called the doctor in. She quickly grabbed a steriod shot and administered it into his thigh. Oh, motherhood.After he calmed down one of the nurses asked if she could take a picture of Robby because he was a “classic, but cute case”  of a hive breakout.  When they send me the photo, ahem, I will post it for you all.  

So what was the scoop? No idea. We racked our brains: Did he eat something new? Did he have new detergent? New oils? Nope.The only thing we can think of is if he picked up a tiny morsel/crumb from the floor that he is allergic to and ate it. Which he does quite often, even though I am Sweeping-Nazi-Mom. Maybe a bit of a peanut or a strawberry or something. But then again there has also been an airborne case of poison sumac that could have caused it around here. 

The doctor said 99% of hives are never really detected. Super duper. I really do hope there is not a sequel to the fine story of Robby and The Hives.